You Look Beautiful
by WitchGirl
Summary: The last thing a man should say to a bride on her wedding day is how he should have been her groom. Luckily, Greg Sanders knows better.


You Look Beautiful

**Summary:** The last thing a man should say to a bride on her wedding day is how he should have been her groom. Luckily, Greg Sanders knows better. GSR, One-sided Sandle. One-shot.

_**Author's Note:**_ I threw this together in about two hours while watching TV today. I was taking a break from my other stories and came up with this little ditty. Enjoy.

* * *

Greg Sanders slinked down the twisting oak hallway, his eyes darting at every person who went by. He pulled at his bowtie, not feeling entirely comfortable in a tuxedo. Finally, he saw a frustrated Catherine Willows clad in a strapless green dress leaning against a door. She seemed relieved to see Greg as she moved to meet him.

"Where is she?" Greg asked urgently. "They've been waiting for about an hour now. She does know she's getting married, doesn't she?"

Catherine glowered at him. "I would hope so," she replied. "She's locked herself in and hasn't said a word to me. I hope to God she hasn't jumped out the window. I've tried talking her out, but it's just me jabbering. I was just about to break down the door."

Greg gently pushed Catherine aside and leaned his ear against the door. "Sara?" he called. "Sara, I know you're in there."

"She bolted," Catherine said stubbornly.

Greg shot her a look before turning his attention to the door. "You know, this is not just gonna go away. You're going to let a lot of people down… Do you want to talk about it?"

"I'm telling you, she's not there," Catherine repeated. "Let's break down the door."

But Greg put a finger to his lips and shook his head. "Sara? Come on, just let me in."

There was more silence and Catherine opened her mouth to speak again, but Greg held up a hand to stop her. Finally, they heard Sara's voice.

"It's bad luck," she said from behind the door.

Greg smiled, her voice music to his ears. "Aw, Sara, that's just for the groom. Come on, it's just me and Catherine."

"No," Sara said. "I mean _I'm_ bad luck."

Catherine and Greg exchanged looks. "Look, Sara, would you let me in? We can talk about… what ever it is you're worried about."

"Lots of people get cold feet," Catherine said, putting in her two cents. "God knows, when I married Eddie—"

"And look how great _that_ turned out," Sara interrupted.

Catherine was stunned but Greg chuckled. "It's probably best not to mention your ex, Cath," he pointed out.

Catherine just rolled her eyes. "Yeah, that only occurred to me after I started talking."

"Sara, if you would just open the door—" But Greg was cut off as he and Catherine saw the door handle turn slowly and it opened a crack, allowing one soft brown eye to peer out at them as the rest of Sara Sidle's body was hidden safely behind the door.

"Catherine…" she began. "Can you go tell Gil that I'm sorry?"

Catherine glanced fleetingly at Greg, but he was watching Sara like a hawk. "Can I talk to you before she does that, Sara?"

Sara looked down, then back up at Greg. "Sure, I guess," she said. She didn't open the door further, but left it as it was before disappearing into the room.

Catherine made a move to enter, but Greg caught her hand. "Go stall the processions," Greg told her. "I've been doing it for the past hour regaling them with my mad Barry Manilow skills. I think they're about ready to throw rotten fruit at me. But you, you're pretty, they'll like you."

"What do you want me to do, pole dance?" Catherine said with a raise of the eyebrow.

Greg smirked. "Hey, use whatever talents you got to keep them happy."

Catherine rolled her eyes but favored Greg with a small smile. "Alright. Find out what's going on and fix this, would you? It's bad enough that she's kept them waiting this long."

Greg nodded. "Sure thing, Cath. We'll all be out of here in time for the reception."

Catherine nodded and took off. Greg slowly pushed open the door and stepped inside. Sara was facing the mirror, her hands resting on the vanity table as she stared at her own reflection. She turned around upon his entrance and stared at him with doe eyes, desperately seeking his advice.

Greg was so stunned he had to stop walking or he feared his heart would stop beating completely. His breath caught in his chest to see this gorgeous woman standing before him, a broken angel in need of solace from a lowly mortal like him. She was a vision in a stained white gown, her hair falling lightly on her bare shoulders. She pulled at the straps, as though suddenly self conscious under his adoring gaze and straightened out the skirt of her dress, which she obviously found to be annoyingly too puffy for her tastes. Her veil lay discarded on the floor by the door, the light pink flowers in the head band slightly crumpled and Greg imagined that she had thrown it at the wall. Her mascara had run slightly, but he saw no tears in her eyes. His eyes focused on her chest, but not in a lustful way. He had simply noticed the large brown stain that trailed down the front of her otherwise perfect gown. A smile crept across his features as he slowly shook his head.

"What's the matter, Sara?" he asked.

Sara gestured at her chest. "Coffee. Can you believe it? I spilt _coffee_ all over myself!"

Greg pointed his thumb of his shoulder. "Well I can get some bleach, we can get that right out—"

"No," Sara interrupted as she folded her arms. "No, it's a sign. This whole _day_ has been going badly. This morning I woke up three hours late. I'm not used to being awake during the day, you know, and I slept through my alarm. So I missed my manicure appointment that Catherine made for me and my nails look as grimy as ever." Sara was staring at her hands and wrinkling her nose at them. She looked up at Greg again. "I handled a very bad decomp yesterday and even lemons can't seem to get the smell out. Catherine was going to do my hair but then the curling iron got stuck so I decided to just wear it _down_. And then I was feeling tired and jittery so I decided more caffeine would do the trick and the caterer bumped me and now _this_! I'm hopeless, Greg, this wedding is a disaster. I think the Gods are trying to tell me something."

But Greg was shaking his head. He stooped down and retrieved the veil as he approached her. Gently tucking her hair behind her ears, he took the veil and put it back on her head, throwing the netting up so he could see her beautiful face. He reached into his pocket and took out a crumpled napkin as he took her hand and gave it to her. "This is what we're going to do," he said. "You're going to wipe off that mascara and reapply it and I'm going to find some bleach to get that stain out of your dress."

"But Greg—"

"Don't 'but Greg' me," Greg interrupted softly. "Just do what I say and when I get back we can talk about why you _really_ don't want to walk down that aisle, OK?"

Sara opened her mouth to protest before she thought better of it and nodded. Greg squeezed her shoulder before turning on his heal and heading out the door.

It took him forever, but he finally found the kitchen and wheedled the caterer into giving him something to get out stubborn stains. The caterer, feeling guilty for almost ruining the wedding, gladly obliged and gave Greg what he called a special family solution to get out the coffee stains. By the time Greg had returned, all traces of smudged mascara were gone and Sara's makeup was absolutely flawless. He grinned at her, his heart pounding loudly in his chest. She smiled back bashfully which only made Greg's heart flutter. Just seeing her smile always released a rush of endorphins.

He quickly entered the room with a spray bottle and approached Sara, focusing on her stain until he realized the inappropriate place it was located. He looked up to meet Sara's eyes, almost horror-stricken at his indiscretion. "I'm sorry, you can do it yourself if you want."

Sara rolled her eyes. "Oh please, Greg," she said, snatching the spray bottle and cloth from his hands. She looked down at her chest and sprayed it, dabbing at it lightly. "Ugh, it won't go away…"

"The caterer said you have to let the solution breathe for ten minutes before soaking it up with the rag, but that the stain should be gone and the dress will be good as new," Greg assured her, taking back the bottle and cloth.

"So what are we going to do for ten minutes?" Sara inquired.

"Maybe talk about why you're so damn certain this wedding is going to be a disaster… if it's even about the wedding."

Sara sighed and plopped down on the bench in front of the vanity table. She shrugged, her hands held up to him palm up. "What do you want me to say? I mean, _look_ at me, Greg!" She pulled at her gown and frowned in distaste. "This isn't _me_. I don't like puffy skirts, I don't wear mascara, and I don't normally _care_ so much about coffee stains on my clothes!"

"Well, Sara," Greg said, chuckling, "you _did_ pick out the dress…"

"Only because the tailor was giving me so _many_ I just wanted him to leave me alone!" Sara moaned. "I pointed at a random one and picked it saying 'This'll do.' I didn't know it was a _tent_ with netting underneath it. I mean, I would have been perfectly happy going to one of the _many_ goofy chapels in this town and just getting the legal documentation saying, 'There, you're married!' and not go through all this frilly stuff."

Greg pulled up a chair and sat in it backwards, his legs hugging the back of the chair as he studied her intently. "If none of this is 'you,' then why are you doing it?"

"That's my point," Sara said. "I don't _know_."

"I do," Greg said. "It's because you love Grissom."

Sara sighed, a wistful smile chasing away her furrowed brow. "I know that. I mean, I know why I'm _marrying_ him, it's just… It feels like in planning this wedding we've been drifting apart. I wanted something quick and legal, he wanted something resembling a classic ceremony… I guess it's the Catholic in him, or maybe the Victorian romantic, but… Why does he have to be such a _girl_ about all this? I haven't seen him in forty-eight hours, Greg, and if feels like he's abandoned me."

Greg nodded in understanding. "That's a good thing that you miss him," he said. "It means it's going to work out."

She looked up at him with wide eyes. "You don't know that. You _can't_ know that. These things don't always work out, no matter how perfect it all seems in the beginning. You know these days two out of three marriages end in divorce?"

"And did you know that 87 percent of all statistics are made up off the top of one's head?" Greg countered. "Sara, ignore the statistics and listen to how you feel. How long have you been doing this little dance with Grissom before he finally popped the question?"

Sara giggled bashfully as she looked off to the side. "Oh, I don't know… years… I mean, it was kind of even in the air when we first met _ages_ ago. But… There are just so many things I don't know, and it bothers me. And I know I'm being irrational, and this is a terrible time to be doubting, but that just makes me feel even worse. And what if… what if he's not the one for me? What if I can't make him happy? How will this effect how we work together? I just don't know, Greg. And I hate not _knowing_ things. And I'm going to be honest with you, Greg, I don't think there's anything you can say that will fix that. Do you?"

Greg took her hand in his and she looked at him as he gazed deeply into her brown orbs. In that moment, there were so many things he wanted to say. He ran through all of them over in his mind, gauging her reaction with every wording of the phrase. _I love you, Sara Sidle. I wish I was the one marrying you. I would do anything to keep that gorgeous smile on your lips. I love the way you laugh, the way you say my name, the way you wear your hair, the way you freak out over the little things, the way your nose wrinkles up when you're surprised… I love all of you._ But even as he thought it, he knew these were words he could never say. He wanted her to be happy, and she was happy with Grissom and he knew that even if she was questioning it. So it was his job to remind her. Even if he strongly believed she could be just as happy with him.

"You love him very much, don't you?" he asked flatly.

She nodded. "With all my heart."

"Then what are you worried about?" he asked, his eyes blank.

Sara searched for words. "I'm just afraid that the person he sees and the person I am aren't the same girl! I mean, I'm neurotic, I'm picky, I'm stubborn, I'm defensive, and he's…"

Greg smiled sadly as he closed his eyes and shook his head. "Sara," he said, looking out the window. "I'm sure that he knows all those things. I'm sure they only make him love you more. It's the little flaws we find in the people we love that makes them human. We see them and we think, My God, she's just like me! She's not perfect, and neither am I, who would have guessed? I think the person you think he sees is just how you see yourself reflected in his eyes. You _feel_ perfect when you're with him, don't you?"

Sara nodded. "Yeah, I guess I… I kind of do."

"I mean, you don't think _he's_ perfect, do you?" Greg pressed.

Sara nodded in acknowledgement. "OK, well there are a _few_ things, a lot of things really, but…"

"But you love him anyways," Greg interrupted, looking at her sincerely. "Don't you?" She nodded. "I know you two, hell I've watched you two for seven years, and I've never seen you look at anyone the way you look at him." _Not even me_, he thought grimly. "Do you know what I would give to have someone like you? Like that, I mean. Someone who would care about me so much they would humor my quirks and put up with my insecurities because they loved me for who I am? You and Grissom do that with each other. I've seen it. I mean, my _God_, those _bugs_? I would _never_ be able to put up with _that_."

She laughed loudly and grinned at him. The sight of it made Greg grin back. "How do you know all this anyways, Greg? When did you become so insightful?"

Greg shrugged and looked away from her again. "Oh, I know a thing or two about love, believe it or not…"

Sara put a hand on his cheek and made him look at her. Her touch almost made him melt in her arms. He wanted nothing more than to slide his arms around her waist and pull her into a passionate kiss. But he restrained himself as he looked at her beautiful face. She stroked his hair and shook her head, smiling sweetly.

"I bet she's an incredible girl," she said, "to have you love her so much."

Greg put his hand on top of hers. "She is," he said. He looked at her gown. "Hey, what do you know, you're all clean again."

Sara looked down at herself and then up at Greg beaming. "It's gone! That's _amazing_!"

"Yeah," said Greg, getting to his feet. "So what say you we go out there and show them how much you love Gil Grissom?"

Sara too rose to her feet as she looked down at her dress and straightened it out again. When she looked up, she found Greg staring at her and suddenly stopped. "What? Is the hemline off? Can you still see the stain?"

Greg was startled by her questions as he shook himself out of his stupor. "No, not at all," he said. "You look… beautiful."

She blushed. "Thanks Greg." She moved past him towards the door and Greg caught the scent vanilla and cinnamon. He closed his eyes, savoring the taste of it, knowing it was the closest he would ever get.

"Greg?" Her voice pulled him out of his reverie and he turned around to see her waiting for him in the doorway.

"Hm?" he intoned, trying to sound innocent. "What's the matter?"

She just shook her head. "Absolutely nothing," she replied. "You're a good friend."

Greg's heart slowed and sank as he forced a smile. "And you're one of my best," he replied. His voice cracked a little on 'best,' but overall he succeeded in keeping his voice bright.

She grinned and nodded eagerly. "Yeah," she said. "You're one of my best too."

He approached her and held out his arm. "Shall we?" he asked.

She was still grinning as they hooked arms and walked down the corridor. When they finally reached the hall in which everyone was waiting for them. At the sight of the bride, the pianist began. Everyone turned at the sound and saw Greg and Sara at the door. Slowly, Grissom turned around and smiled at his bride.

Greg made a move to sit in one of the pews, but Sara held fast to his arm.

"No," she whispered, and he looked at her confused. She quickly explained to him under her breath, her eyes fixed on her groom. "I mean, it's not like I have a father or anything like that to give me away. And if Gil wants to do this right… So do you want the job?"

Greg stared at her stunned for only a moment before he snapped his jaw shut and nodded. "It's an honor, Ms. Sidle."

"You know," Sara said slyly as they began marching down the aisle. "This is the last time you can call me that."

Greg fixed his gaze straight ahead of him. "I know," he whispered.

They continued down the aisle in silence, Sara beaming, and Greg trying his hardest not to let her down. When they finally reached Grissom, Greg wanted nothing more than to never let Sara go. But he knew he had to.

As her arm slipped away from his and he stepped back, he watched Grissom take her hands as the music stopped and the ceremony began. And as they said their vows, Greg knew he had done the right thing. And it was with Grissom and Sara's first kiss as husband and wife that Greg really began to let Sara go. After all, he knew that she couldn't be in safer hands.

And with that thought, Greg decided it was time to finally move on.

**The End**


End file.
